His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, Rumbold and Whitney—a jolly crew! All carved their names on the stone, and all Share the fate of the brave Du Val! With their chisels so fine, tra la! "Save us!" continued the apprentice, "I hope this beam doesn't resemble the Newgate stone; or I may chance, like the great men the song speaks of, to swing on the Tyburn tree for my pains. “Married already,” he said, with his mouth full.
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