"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. "Two hundred pounds, if he's lodged in Newgate before to-morrow morning," continued Wild. . Here again instinct guided her. . Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. " Thus urged, Jack reluctantly departed. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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