Your life is like a funeral March. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. ‘So it would appear. I shouldn't care to have attention constantly drawn to us. " "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.
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