‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. ” She hesitated. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Jack, who had formerly been in the custody of both these gentlemen, gave them a very cordial welcome; apologized for the sorry room he was compelled to receive them in; and when they took leave, insisted on treating them to a double bowl of punch, which they were now discussing with the upper jailer, Mr.
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