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O'Flynn superintended it all, and even Potts had the curiosity to come out and see what they were up to. Mac was "kind o' dozin'" by the fire. When the frame was finished O'Flynn helped to put the trial-log in place, having marked it off with charcoal to indicate inch and a quarter planks.
"Queen's evidence!" returned Potts, contemptuously, "and what's his evidence worth the evidence of a man like that against a gentleman of unblemished character?" "He will be able to show what the character of that gentleman is," rejoined Langhetti. "Who will believe him?" "No one can help it." "You believe him, no doubt.
"Yes," said Potts, looking hard at his visitor. He was a man of singular aspect. His hair was long, parted in the middle, and straight. He wore dark colored spectacles. A thick, black beard ran under his chin. His linen was not over-clean, and he wore a long surtout coat. "I belong to the firm of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., Solicitors, London. I am the Co." "Well!"
After a long search I found him there, as I had feared, in connection with his old, vicious associates. True, they had changed their names, and were trying to pass for honest men. Crocker called himself Clark, and Briggs called himself Potts." "Potts," cried Brandon. "Yes," said the other, who was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the surprise of Brandon.
"That Potts means to visit thy gran-mother to morrow." "Weel!" said Jem, grimly. "An arrest her," pursued Elizabeth. "Easily said," laughed Jem, scornfully, "boh neaw quite so easily done." "Nah quite, Jem," responded Elizabeth, joining in the laugh. "'Specially when th' owd dame's prepared, as she win be now."
Brandon stepped into the carriage and seated himself by her side. Potts sat opposite. He touched her. He could hear her breathing. How many months had passed since they sat so near together! What sorrows had they not endured! Now they were side by side, and for a moment they forgot that their bitterest enemy sat before them.
"You declared just now that marks, meres, and boundaries, were unremovable, Master Potts," said the reeve, with a sneer; "you have altered your opinion." The crestfallen attorney was dumb. "Master Roger Nowell must find some better plea than the imputation of witchcraft to set aside Mistress Nutter's claim," observed Richard.
Even in the midst of his cares Brandon's curiosity was excited. He walked with assumed indifference up to the desk as though looking for the key of his room. Glancing at the hotel book his eye ranged down the column of names till it rested on the last one. "Pietro Cigole." Cigole! the name brought singular associations. Had this man still any connection with Potts?
"There isn't a drop of syrup left," said Potts, who had drained the can, and even wiped it out carefully with halves of hot biscuit. "He don't really want it." "Mustn't open a fresh can till to-morrow." "No, siree. We've only got " "Besides, he'll bust."
Our Democratic candidate, who had first felt but an academic interest in the campaign, began now to show elation. Old Cuthbert Mayne, the Republican candidate, who had been certain of success but for the accident of Potts, chewed his unlighted cigar viciously, and from the corner of his trap-like mouth spoke evil of Potts in a voice that was terrifying for its hoarseness.
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