When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. She reflected before answering.
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