” There was a moment’s silence. "Good night. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. This he accomplished by holding the chain that connected them firmly between his teeth, and squeezing his fingers as closely together as possible, succeeded in drawing his wrists through the manacles. He stood back and held her shoulders. Anna was unimpressed. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. ‘Let her go.
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