“I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. You wouldn't rob Mr. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. But, when he got to the door with this intention, he became ashamed of his fears; and feeling convinced that Jack —bad as he might be—was not capable of such atrocious conduct as to plunder his benefactor twice, he contented himself with looking to the priming of his pistols, and placing them near him, to be ready in case of need, he threw himself on the bed and speedily fell asleep. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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