“I know. When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. ‘Not if I heard him aright. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm.
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