She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. . Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. The boy was coming around. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely.
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