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"Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. ‘And if he is dead I know not.

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