It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. ” “If it were all true,” he said doggedly, “it may still be possible. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. ’ ‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. You must know that. ‘Damnation! Too late. Their conversation hung. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. He has no imagination, no real generosity.
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