The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. But she did not speak. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. Melusine turned and turned, unable to imagine just where the secret door could be. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed. This also struck her as odd. Melusine whirled.
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