Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. See what you have made of me. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON.
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