“Who is there?”
“The wheelwright of Coq,” said the great golfer.
“Don’t open the door,” cried Belzébuth; “that rascal wins at every turn; he is capable of depopulating my empire.”
Roger laughed in his sleeve.
“Oh! you are not saved,” said Death. “I am going to take you where you won’t be cold either.”
Quicker than a beggar would have emptied a poor’s box they were in purgatory.
“Toc—toc!”
“Who is there?”
“The wheelwright of Coq,” said the great golfer.