A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. No more. "Can you make me other than a condemned felon? Can you make me not Jack Sheppard?" "No," replied Blueskin; "and I wouldn't if I could. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first.
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