He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. I shall now be able to test my skill. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. She recoiled. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. Imbecile. Preparations were next made for taking Thames on board. It was the gratification of an immense necessity.
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