“ ‘This day six years,’ said Heyling, ‘I claimed the life you owed me for my child’s. Beside the lifeless form of your daughter, old man, I swore to live a life of revenge. I have never swerved from my purpose for a moment’s space; but if I had, one thought of her uncomplaining, suffering look, as she drooped away, or of the starving face of our innocent child, would have nerved me to my task. My first act of requital you well remember: this is my last.’

“The old man shivered, and his hands dropped powerless by his side.

“ ‘I leave England tomorrow,’ said Heyling, after a moment’s pause. ‘Tonight I consign you to the living death to which you devoted her⁠—a hopeless prison⁠—’