"Why do you laugh?" he asked. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. McClintock does it; and he knows why. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. This spike is more than half cut through. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite.
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