In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. Wild is a great man," said the hangman, replenishing his pipe, "and we owe him much, and ought to support him. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them. “I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs.
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