CHAPTER XII. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. Acknowledge your faults. The executioner shook his head. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever.
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