"Had I know'd it when I bargained for him, he would never have
pested me in this way, never! But he looked so likely, and had such
a quick insight of things,--Ingin's Ingin, though!" says Grabguy.
"The very look might have told you that, my dear fellow; I sold him
to you with your eyes open, and, of course, expected you to be the
judge," interrupts Graspum, his countenance assuming great
commercial seriousness.
Mr. Grabguy politely says, he meant no insinuations. "Come,
Nicholas! I told you this would be the end on't," he continues,
stooping down and taking him by the shoulders, with an air of
commiseration.
The bruised body, as if suddenly inspired with new life, raises
itself half up, and with eyes opening, gazes vacantly at those
around, at its own hands besmeared with gore; then, with a curl of
contempt on his lip, at the shackle just released from his limb-"Ah,
well, it's ended here; this is the last of me, no doubt," he
murmurs, and makes another attempt to rise.
"Don't move from where you are!" commands an official, setting his
hand firmly against his right shoulder, and pressing him back. He
has got the infective crimson on his hands, chafes them one against
the other, perpendicularly, as Nicholas looks at him doubtingly.
"It's all over--I'll not harm you; take me to a slaughter-house if
you will,--I care not," he says, still keeping his eye on the
official.
Grabguy, somewhat moved at the sight, would confirm his
harmlessness.
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