" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. "You are my prisoner, Jack. But I do not need that Gérard attend. But if you mean to take me to this Gérard, I shall know what to say to him. Drive away the cat; throw that measure of gin through the window; and tell me why you've not so much as touched the packing-case for Lady Trafford, which I particularly desired you to complete against my return. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy.
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