Your dear friend squire locks you up for the night, but dreenks too much and goes to slip with the key in his pocket; it is there when he wakes; but the preesoner, where is he?
He is gone, vanished, escaped in the night, and, like the base fabreec of your own poet's veesion, he lives no trace--is it trace ?--be'ind! A leetle earth is so easily bitten down; a leetle more is so easily carried up into the garden; and a beet of nice strong wire might so easily be found in a cellar, and afterwards in the lock! No, Senhor Cole, I do not expect to 'ang.

My schims have seldom one seengle flaw.

There was just one in the Lady Jermyn; there was--Senhor Cole! If there is one this time, and you will be so kind as to point it out, I will--I will run the reesk of shooting you instead of--" A pinch of his baggy throat, between the fingers and thumbs of both hands, foreshadowed a cleaner end; and yet I could look at him; nay, it was more than I could do not to look upon that bloodless face, with the two dry blots upon the parchment, that were never withdrawn from mine.
"No you won't, messmate! If it's him or us for it, let a bullet do it, and let it do it quick, you bloody Spaniard! You can't do the other without me, and my part's done." Harris was my only hope.

I had seen this from the first, but my appeal I had been keeping to the very end.

And now he was leaving me before a word would come! Santos had gone over to my grave, and there was Harris at the door! "It is not dip enough," said the Portuguese.
"It's as deep as I mean to make it, with you sittin' there talkin' about it." And the door stood open.
"Captain!" I screamed.