Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. What does it matter? It is here, and it is here to stay. But he might have broken out of prison, and yet not got over the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. Oh, don't worry. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. God help me.
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