"He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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