At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. It had been discussed in silence. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. It was an impulse. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. Having seen every precaution taken to ensure his safe custody, he departed, muttering to himself, "I shall yet live to see him hanged—I shall live to see him hanged.
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