"Mr. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible.
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