The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man.
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