" "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. " In less time than Hobson had mentioned, the carriage was announced. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. . Sepulchre's clock struck eight. " "I'll take my chance," replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps.
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