‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. ’ ‘That was not what I had in mind. Wood in the deepest mourning. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. "Where did you find it!" asked Wood.
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