" "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. “Mr. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. ” “Men,” said Miss Miniver, “NEVER have a reason. ’ He turned to Melusine, ignoring the indignant protest that greeted his words. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly.
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