"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. " With these words, he strode out of the room, darted down the stone stairs, and, on his arrival at the Lodge, seized the rope of the great bell communicating with the interior of the prison, which he rang violently. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. The odd creak was not to be avoided in an old house such as this. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. “Everything goes on, confound it! One doesn’t change anything one has set going by making good resolutions. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. That window there…. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire.
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