” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips. 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. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. ’ ‘Eh bien. I waited for her at the back.
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