The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. A dissipated, loose-living man. He was there concealed, waiting her return. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence.
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