Chapter 65

           Forathirdtimeisthetableaureconstructed—spectatorsandactorsinthedreaddramatakingtheirplacesasbefore.

           Thelazoisoncemorepassedoverthelimb;thesametwoscoundrelstakingholdofitslooseend—thistimedrawingittowardsthemtillitbecomestaut.

           Forthethirdtimearisesthereflection:

           "SoonmustthesoulofMauriceGeraldgobacktoitsGod!"

           Nownearerthaneverdoestheunfortunatemanseemtohisend.Evenlovehasprovedpowerlesstosavehim!Whapoweronearthcanbeappealedtoafterthis?Nonelikelytoavail.

           Butthereappearsnochanceofsuccour—notimeforit.ThereisnomercyinthesternlooksoftheRegulators—onlyimpatience.Thehangmen,too,appearinahurry—asiftheywereindreadofanotherinterruption.Theymanipulatetheropewiththeabilityofexperiencedexecutioners.Thephysiognomyofeitherwouldgivecolourtotheassumption,thattheyhadbeenaccustomedtothecalling.

           Inlessthansixtysecondstheyshallhavefinishedthe"job."

           "Nowthen,Bill!Areyeready?"shoutsonetotheother—bythequestionproclaiming,thattheynolongerintendtowaitfortheword.

           "Allright!"respondsBill."Upwiththesonofaskunk!Upwithhim!"

           Thereisapullupontherope,butnotsufficienttoraisethebodyintoanerectposition.Ittightensaroundtheneck;liftstheheadalittlefromtheground,butnothingmore!

           Onlyoneofthehangmenhasgivenhisstrengthtothepull."Haul,damnyou!"criesBill,astonishedattheinactionofhisassistant.