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A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. “My God!” and ceased to move. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment.
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