Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction.
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