That is what I must do. The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames—how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. The decision had been sound. His eyes closed.
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