‘You make a game with me, I think. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. " "Rely on me," rejoined the executioner, throwing away his pipe, which was just finished. The ring's yours, and you're mine. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss.
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