"Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. My proposition is for you to keep an eye on him, and the moment he puts on his clothes to send me a telegram, care of the HongKong Hotel. If you don't conquer this disgraceful propensity in time, you'll soon come to want; and then nothing can save you. ‘Wait! No time for that.
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