That night in his den he smoked many pipes. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ‘So are you. The world had not passed by but had gone around it in a tremendous half-circle. I need only just jump up and throw myself upon you. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins.
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