When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. "Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. "Slip on the handcuffs," cried the thief-taker. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. There were two of them. Prison was beastly. Mere formality. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery.
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