Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. They are for serving me.
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