And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. Aha!" he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, "I see you're confounded. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free.
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