"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Spurling. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. 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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