” The conversation hung. Manning displayed distress. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Wood will be intercepted. Think! You could not have done it. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Managers and accountants are always shifting about, so he tells me. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. " "Detained!" echoed Marvel. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. But I'll never part with your irons.
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