Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. ‘Don’t tell me.
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