A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. To O'Higgins—for all his sordid business he was not insensible to beauty—to O'Higgins she appeared to have entered the room with the light. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment.
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