They were silent for a time. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. “They might do you good,” she remarked. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped.
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