He hanged your first husband. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. ‘Eh bien. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went.
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