Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. "Now, then, Saint Giles!" interposed Sheppard, "are we to be kept here all night?" "Eh day!" exclaimed Sharples: "wot new-fledged bantam's this?" "One that wants to go to roost," replied Sheppard. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. "We've heard coming and going. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. you did what you had to do. I am your servitor.
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