It ought not to be much. I suppose you came right out and asked him about his family?’ ‘Nothing of the sort. It shall be the bludgeon. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully.
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