” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel.
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