It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. "Comfort yourself, my charmer," said Mr. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. " While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story.
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