” “But I can’t do that. . . ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. To be sure," he added, lowering his tone, "they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was smothered—ough! ough!—how this cough chokes me!" Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart from the pole, upon a bench near him. I’m a little tired.
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