"Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. "That's a good story, lad. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. She would write to Gerald. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. . He had heard everything. The chamber rang with her shrieks. And when they came to the gallows, Jack leaped out of the cart, and the hangman tied up Jonathan instead—ha! ha! How the mob shouted and huzzaed—and I shouted too—ha! ha! ha!" "Mother!" cried Jack, unable to endure this agonizing scene longer. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. No matter what happened, whether the road smoothed out or became still rougher, he would always be carrying this secret with him; and each time he recalled it, the rack.
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