’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. White caught her eye, and smiled benignly down the table. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark.
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