"Do you call this a profitable job?" said a strange voice.
"Oh, very fair,—worth about fifty dollars, I should guess. I wouldn't undertake such a piece of work at a smaller chance," said Glover.
"Shall you cut the face?" said the other, after a minute's pause.
"Of course," was the answer; "it's the only way to do it handsomely."
"Hum!—what do you use? steel?"
"Steel, by all means."
"I shouldn't."
"I like it better; and I have a nice bit that has done service in this way before."
From Lorrimer's brow exuded a deadly sudor. His heart ceased to palpitate. His muscles became rigid; his eyes fixed. His terror was almost too great for him to bear. With difficulty he controlled himself, and listened again.
"Can it be done here?" asked the strange voice;—"will not the features be recognized?"