On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible.
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