Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. She heard him come in; the light burned on. The father was a madman. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. " "You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack," rejoined Thames.
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