After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. ‘And I do understand. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. I think not, Annabel. I ought to have gone long ago. It has become a part of the order of my life. He was at length rescued from his assailants,— rescued to perish, seven months afterwards, with every ignominy, at the very gibbet to which he had brought his victim. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs.
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