His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge.

This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin--it cannot be called a smile--played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it.

His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table.
"After all," he said, "this is the safest weapon.

No instrument I've ever used has done me such good service.

It _shall_ be the bludgeon." So saying, he slung it upon his wrist.
Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open.