Immediately beneath the pulpit stood a large circular pew where malefactors under sentence of death sat to hear the condemned sermon delivered to them, and where they formed a public spectacle to the crowds, which curiosity generally attracted on those occasions. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. “They’d better not,” said Hetty. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. And while her son was reconveyed to prison the body of the unfortunate Mrs. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered.
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