He tried again. " "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. The executioner shook his head. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. "You've got to kill me to get out of here alive. . It doesn’t matter. I am bound to admit that I greatly enjoy my altered life. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position.
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