"Put up your blade, Sir Rowland," rejoined Jonathan, resuming his former calm demeanour, "King James the Third will need it. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch.
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