I fought. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. Kneebone will excuse you. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. It was my destiny to have her. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent.
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