Humor my crotchet just now, and perhaps I may humor yours a month or two hence.

I think I could lay my hand on the fellow who blew you up." "What, sir! Ah! tell me that, and I'll do as much philanthropy as you like--after--" "After you have punched your fellow-creature's head." "But it is impossible, sir.

How can you know?
These acts are kept as secret as the grave." "And how often has the grave revealed its secrets to observant men?
Dr.
Donne sauntered about among graves, and saw a sexton turn up a skull.
He examined it, found a nail in it, identified the skull, and had the murderess hung.

She was safe from the sexton and the rest of the parish, but not from a stray observer.

Well, the day you were blown up, I observed something, and arrived at a conclusion, by my art." "What, physic ?" "Oh, dear, no; my other art, my art of arts, that I don't get paid for; the art of putting myself in other people's places.