The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames—how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. The whole affair interested him deeply. She missed them already. One has to be so careful. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it.
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