” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket.
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