And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. Spurling. She had called the police on them anonymously. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. Pity you aren’t under my command. There would be no mercy in this man.
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