" "Only as a brother?" persisted Kneebone. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. "Good night, Master.
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