‘I scarce see how my Lady Y——’s finger-joints affect my husband’s release, sir,’ pouted Carrie, who thought that her father had taken a sudden and rather unfeeling divergence into his own affairs at this point; but her tears were dried none the less; she listened breathlessly for what Sebastian was going to say next. ‘I have an idea the cure would be simple enough,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ve seen more of what can be done with cutting than most men, and I’m not afraid of the knife.—Come, Carrie, mayhap we can cut this knot yet.’ ‘How? what?’ queried Carrie, mystified. ‘Plainly, I’ll operate on your husband if he hath a mind to give a hand for his life, and an hour of agony.’ Carrie had heard—as what surgeon’s daughter of that day had not heard?—of many a criminal who owed his life to her father’s lancet. It was not an uncommon means of escape from the gallows, though the horror of it made it in every case a last resort. The difficulty of obtaining subjects for operation in those days was such that the surgeons considered themselves lucky when they could get some hapless prisoner to buy his life at their hands. As I say, many a tale of the kind Carrie had heard, yet she whitened now as she realised all that the plan involved. ‘Tush, Carrie,’ laughed her father, patting her white cheek. ‘Many’s the man hath gone through worse at my hands. Ask your old friend Cartwright how I took off his arm, and he’s here still to tell the tale.’ ‘Ugh,’ shuddered Carrie. ‘Come, I had not thought to see my daughter a coward,’ urged Sebastian. ‘Will—will you arrange about it, sir?’ said Carrie faintly. ‘I shall see the authorities—then Philip; I have no fear of his refusing: all that a man hath will he give for his life, Carrie.’ ‘Will it be very bad, sir?’ asked Carrie. ‘Well, I’ll scarce guarantee him a pleasant hour,’ laughed Sebastian. ‘The last I had under my hands from Newgate made noise enough to deafen one; the one before that had made himself as drunk as a lord, which was wiser in him for certain.’ Poor Carrie, treated to these details—for it was a robust age,—shivered and felt sick with horror. ‘Sir, sir, be quiet!’ she cried, with her fingers in her ears, and Sebastian laughed. ‘Send your coach home, Carrie, and stay with me,’ he said; ‘where else would you stay, now you are in trouble?’ ‘Will you have me, sir?’ ‘Till brighter days return, my daughter.’ CHAPTER XXXV