‘Possibly,’ he said. “You must not think of me as one. His blood would be sweet with it. Did you break my mother's heart as you tried to break mine? I am no longer accountable to you for anything. Kneebone begged him to take the prisoner into the churchyard. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster.
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