He'll do aught to save his life." "You're wrong there; I cannot but say you're wrong there.

I know the man, and as I've told you there's nothing in the world he dare not do.
Why, would you credit it, I saw 'im one day--" "Tut, haud yer tongue.

Ye'd see him tremble one day if this sheriff of yours were not flayt by his own shadow.

Ye'd see him on Haribee; aye, and maybe ye _will_ see him there yet, sheriff or no sheriff." This was said with a bitterness indicative of fierce and deadly hatred.
Shifting uneasily under the close gaze of his companion, the other said,-- "What for do you look at me like that?
I've no occasion to love him, have I ?" "Nor I, nor I," said the first speaker, his face distorted with evil passions; "and you shall spit on his grave yet, Master Scroope, that you shall; and dance on it till it does yer soul good; you shall, you shall, sheriff or none." Just then a flourish of trumpets fell on the ear.

Conversation was interrupted while the men, with the bookseller, stepped to the door.
Numbers of townspeople were crowding into the Market Place.
Immediately afterwards there came at a swift pace through Scotch Street a gayly bedecked carriage, with outriders in gold lace and a trumpeter riding in front.
"The judges--going through to King's Arms Lane," observed the bookseller.
"What o'clock do the 'sizes start, Mr.Pengelly ?" asked a loiterer outside.
"Ten in the morning, that's when the grand jury sit," the bookseller answered..