Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Jack was in excellent spirits; and by his wit, drollery and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a great favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. ’ ‘Bravo,’ applauded Lucilla, clapping her hands. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams.
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