And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. Like carpenter, like chips. Ennison’s acquaintance. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. ’ ‘Alas.
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