The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. " "If you're in earnest," rejoined Blueskin, "give me that bag of gold. Very well, then. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. “I must try the Directory. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. ‘Very well, then. And do you, Jack, attend to your work, and mind you don't get into further mischief.
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