"If you two loved each other," went on the doctor, "there would be something to stand on—a reason why for this madness. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. Mr. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. She went about the familiar home with a clearer and clearer sense of inevitable conclusions.
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