"That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. “My dear Anna,” he answered. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. Wood. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us.
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