With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. "One of us has got to die," he panted. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. And as a natural consequence, they don’t do so well, and they don’t get on—and so the world doesn’t pay them. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. "Do not steel your heart against him, dear Thames," interposed Winifred. Re-issued with new cover October 2013.
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