Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. Give me your staff. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. "Relating to the father of the boy—Thames Darrell," supplied Jonathan. The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. "Safe!" shouted Darrell, as he effected a secure landing. When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened.
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