But will that stop him?
No fear: he's worked up to the pitch of killing.

He'll lunge first, and be surprised afterward .-- So regrettable! Such remorse!--Oh, I know _him!_" The Cockney fidgeted for a time.

His face--the face of a street-bred urchin--slowly worked into lines of abnormal cunning.
"I say! I was thinking," he ventured at last.

"Two swords, that's all?
Just so.

Now--my boy used to be learn-pidgin at Chantel's.