I'm going through his pockets. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Ruth shivered; she was cold. He looked fiercely and inquiringly from one to the other of his companions; but, though both of them were excessively frightened, neither appeared guilty. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day.
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