Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. He it was who formed the grand design of a robber corporation, of which he should be the sole head and director, with the right of delivering those who concealed their booty, or refused to share it with him, to the gallows. B.
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