She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. ’ He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. And he did not lack courage. The fever came.
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