‘Ah, the tragedy. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. No trouble will ever come to your sister through me. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. “Who?” She asked. .
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