The executioner shook his head. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. He unlocked himself from her embrace. He had, for the most part, been correct. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast.
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