" "Where did he get it?" inquired Wood, in surprise. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. A woman such as I am might help take care of Mr. Cocking the gun. Apparently he thought it very much worth while. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts.
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