As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday. Perhaps I'd better open it now. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. In any case, he is liable to discover it at any time. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths.
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