But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. The light would betray us. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. . ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily.
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