"It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. But tell her this, too. She is, in her way, a dear. ” And she knew that she was safe. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. The next instant, he was launched into eternity! Scarcely had he been turned off a moment, when a man with swarthy features leapt into the cart with an open clasp-knife in his hand, and, before he could be prevented, severed the rope, and cut down the body.
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