"My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. ’ ‘His daughter, ma’am?’ Gerald asked. Abruptly, Gerald turned. Placing a piece of money in Morgan's hands, he hurried out of the churchyard. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. " "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. E.
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