"Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. What would it be without that safeguard?” Ogilvy pursued his own topic. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. He'd never forgive you.
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