“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. She addressed Capes as though she spoke to him alone. “Maybe I should have stayed home. Go away now, there’s a good lad. I guess we could go for a ride. I am absolutely certain that up to the present we have escaped all notice, and I do not believe that any casual observer would take us for English people. Goodbye. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. But of course the money will not be refunded. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard.
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