"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. "Under the table. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. So far she had the utmost difficulty in getting on to that vitally important matter. And yet I know not—for the object of his visit here to-night was to serve Jack, who, if your statement is correct, which I cannot however for a moment believe, does not deserve his assistance. “Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked.
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