This was irregular. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. She disengaged her hands and stood up. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. I think over all sorts of things. Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. You can come back for these, for you’ll carry him to the gatehouse, that’s what you’ll do.
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