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Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. "Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol.
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