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"I am going to bring these other scoundrels to their senses, and early in the morning the three of you will be on your way to jail, where I hope you may remain for the rest of your lives." "If you don't get killed on your way there," said David, in whose nervous hand the heavy biscuit-beater was almost as dangerous as my pistol.
To be sure it was he and not a burglar I spoke to him in a low voice, my pistol raised in case of an unsatisfactory reply. "I heard that noise, sir," he whispered, "and was going down to see about it." "Are you ready if it's thieves?" I whispered. "I have got the biscuit-beater," he replied. "Come on, then," said I, and we went downstairs.
That large, round block, with the wooden hammer, is the biscuit-beater; and the cork that is lifting itself from the jug standing on it, belongs to the yeast department. Mr.
I was surprised to see the beardless face of a young and very good-looking man. He was well dressed, and had the general appearance of a person belonging to theatrical circles. When his arms had been tied, I told David he might lay down his biscuit-beater, and help me with the third man, who was badly mixed up with the débris of the refreshments. We hauled him out and tied him up.
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