" "'No doubt,'" said Wood, who had again turned over the leaves of the sacred volume—', "no doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he escaped the seas, yet vengeance suffereth not to live'. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him.
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