She twanged the catgut under her fingers. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. Gold-handled, too. The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Do not waste time in vain regrets, but let us remove the body, that we may fulfil her last injunctions. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor.
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