She leaned a little towards him. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. They drove rapidly through the emptying streets. "I have nothing. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart.
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