"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Close upon this came another thought. " "I will have none till I have forced the villain's name from you!" he cried, stamping the floor with rage. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. She glared at him with satisfaction. No one would ever know what happened to him. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. ” She said. “Nothing has happened to Mr.
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