He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. In short, more preparations were made than if a state criminal was about to be executed. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. The ragged edge.
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