Richard Devine was dead, and the secret of his birth would die with him.

Rufus Dawes, his alter ego, alone should live.

Rufus Dawes, the convicted felon, the suspected murderer, should live to claim his freedom, and work out his vengeance; or, rendered powerful by the terrible experience of the prison-sheds, should seize both, in defiance of gaol or gaoler.
With his head swimming, and his brain on fire, he eagerly listened for more.

It seemed as if the fever which burnt in his veins had consumed the grosser part of his sense, and given him increased power of hearing.
He was conscious that he was ill.

His bones ached, his hands burned, his head throbbed, but he could hear distinctly, and, he thought, reason on what he heard profoundly.
"But we can't stir without the girl," Gabbett said.