"He will kill me," cried Thames. ’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. Twenty guineas, mind. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward.
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