“Rather!” “I am perfectly serious,” replied Welsh, keenly. “I’m certain the thing is quite possible.” “I am perfectly serious,” “I’m certain the thing is quite possible.” He half closed his eyes and ruminated in silence. The doctor watched him—fascinated, afraid. Somehow or other he felt that he was already a kind of Guy Fawkes. There was something so unlawful in Welsh’s expression. [pg 12] They sat there without speaking for about ten minutes, and then all of a sudden Welsh sprang up with a shout of laughter, slapping first his own leg and then the doctor’s back. “By Gad, I’ve got it!” he cried. “I have it!” “By Gad, I’ve got it!” “I have it!” And he had; hence this tale. [pg 13] PART I. PART I. PART I. CHAPTER I. CHAPTER I. CHAPTER I. In a certain fertile and well-wooded county of England there stands a high stone wall. On a sunny day the eye of the traveller passing through this province is gratified by the sparkle of myriads of broken bottles arranged closely and continuously along its coping-stone. Above these shining facets the boughs of tall trees swing in the wind and throw their shadows across the highway. The wall at last leaves the road and follows the park round its entire extent. Its height never varies; the broken bottles glitter
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