“Yes, sor.”
“We’ll put the rope through the pulley and a running noose at the end of the rope.”
“Yes, sor. Axing your pardon, sor, I don’t mind helpin’ in the fixin’ and the bindin’ of him, but I’d rather lave the stretchin’ of him to you, sor.”
“The what?”
“The stretchin’, sor.”
“The hangin’ he means, sir,” said Patsy. “Sure, Larry, that’s not what Misther Fanshawe’s afther.”
“Good God!” said Dicky, “you didn’t think I was going to hang the man!”
Larry scratched his head.
“I thought be the rope, sor——”
“Come on,” said Mr Fanshawe, “and I’ll show you what I mean.”