She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and in an under tone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. Peste, she had forgot the sword. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. .
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