Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. A slow anger burned in the man. The record of his conviction at the Old Bailey sessions was then read; and as no objection was offered to it, the AttorneyGeneral moved that his execution might take place on Monday next. This, then, was the cause of the widow's wild inexplicable look,—of her sudden shriek! Explaining his suspicious in a whisper to Jack's captor, who proved to be a church-warden and a constable, by name John Dump,—Mr. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother.
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