"Jump!" cried Ben, in a voice of thunder. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. Her little white hand stole across the table. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone.
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