His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. " "I'll have no explanations whatever," replied the carpenter, disdainfully, "except before a magistrate. "Gentlemen," returned the Master, solemnly, "it is a question easily answered— they are NOWHERE! Had they hanged the bailiffs, the bailiffs would not have hanged them. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. . But no more of that. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool.
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