. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. The former was shot by Blueskin through the head, and his body fell over the bannisters. We'll have him on his way before many days. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself.
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