"Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. " "You read those yarns?" Spurlock's head came about, and there was eagerness in his eyes. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. And Pottiswick, of course.
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