Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Andrew's, the churchyard wall of St. " The Wastrel advanced. ToC Jack was scarcely concealed when the door opened, and the two persons of whom he had caught a glimpse below entered the room. ’ His colour deepened. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. " "But you are educated!"—astonished. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay.
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