” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. This is my friend, Mr. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell. "Do you hear that! We are not wholly at fault. Come along with us in the morning. "What's that?" asked Wild.
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