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His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. ” He spoke loudly. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. But get up behind, Blueskin.
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