Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. Kneebone smiled assent. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. “I am frightened now. There was absolute quiet. ” Miss Pellissier was beginning to recover herself.
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