Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. My friend the doctor suspected it, and so do I. "Now stand before me, Poll. ‘Yes, miss. Old London Bridge. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother.
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