It was bad luck to go to Canongate. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. On the cords being removed, he made a desperate spring at Wild, bore him to the ground, clutched at his throat, and would, infallibly, have strangled him, if the keepers had not all thrown themselves upon him, and by main force torn him off. He had already spoken his mind on the folly of allowing a clearly dangerous female to escape a second time.
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