With these words he produced a flask of brandy, which he handed to the old woman, who drank deeply: he then applied it to his own lips, and drained it of its contents.
“Now I feel all right again!” he cried, as he restored the empty bottle to his pocket. “There’s nothing like a drop of the bingo at a crisis of this nature.”
“Nothing!” observed Mrs. Mortimer, assentingly: for she likewise felt all her resolution—or rather hard-heartedness—suddenly revive under the influence of the alcohol.
“Now, then, let us proceed to business,” said Jack. “I have got my own clasp-knife—a darkey[28]—and a small jimmey,”[29] he continued; “and blowed if it shall be my fault, should we fail in the crack[30] to-night——”
“And all that is to follow,” added Mrs. Mortimer, to whom the brandy had imparted a ferociousness which made her thirst as it were to drink her own daughter’s blood.
The two miscreants—male and female—now proceeded in silence; and as they entered Westbourne Place a lovely moon broke forth from behind a cloud hitherto dark and menacing.
“This is the house,” said Mrs. Mortimer, when they came within sight of the dwelling where Laura and the Count of Carignano were slumbering in each other’s arms.
“I know it, old gal,” responded Jack Rily. “We must turn into the lane that leads down by the side of the premises. Come along—quick—there’s a person approaching from behind.”
And, followed by the old woman, he darted into the alley which separated the Count of Carignano’s abode from the neighbouring row of houses.
At the back of the villa there was a small garden, the boundary-wall of which was of no great height; and the Doctor, in the survey of the premises which he took during the evening, had made up his mind to effect an entry in the rear of the building.