of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop.

What’s that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and down outside?

What’s that? says Joe.

Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Talking about hanging, I’ll show you something you never saw. Hangmen’s letters. Look at here.

So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.

Are you codding? says I.

Honest injun, says Alf. Read them.