It ought never to have begun. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. "The traps!" responded a bystander. ’ The eyes flashed momentarily. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch.
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