They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. It took my breath away. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind. “What a hypocrite you are. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. It’s on the horse. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. The will to live had returned.
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