The executioner threw a black cloth over the bleeding trunk, and held up the grizzly head by the hair; and Sir Norman could have sworn the features moved, and the dead eyes rolled round the room.
"Behold!" cried the executioner, striking the convulsed face with the palm of his open hand, "the fate of all traitors!" "And of all spies!" exclaimed the dwarf, glaring with his fiendish eyes upon the appalled Sir Norman.

"Keep your axe sharp and bright, Mr.
Executioner, for before morning dawns there is another gentleman here to be made shorter by a head.".