He sat down on the one chair there was, placed his hat on the table, and
said, "I am sorry to see you in this place and condition, Mr. Wheatman."
"Thank you," said I.
"Of course you know there's only one end of it."
"Yes," I replied, and hummed a stave of "Lillibullero."
He leaned forward and said impressively, "The gibbet, Mr. Wheatman!"
"Draughty places!" said I, smiling, as I thought of Nance Lousely. "I can
feel the wind whistling through my bones."
"You are pleased to be facetious, sir. It does credit, I must say, to
your nerves."
"You are pleased to be sympathetic, my lord," I riposted, "whereby you do
no credit to my common sense."
He took short breaths and then reflected a minute or two, during which I
clinked a soft tattoo with my iron wristlets, and eyed him joyously. He
was there--a free lordling, I was here--a chained rebel, but I had him set.
"I have a proposal to make to you, Mr. Wheatman," he said at length.
"I am indeed honoured, but be careful, my lord! It's not in the least
likely, I fear, to be a proposal which you would like the sentry beneath
the window to overhear.
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