" "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. " "You judged rightly," rejoined Jack; "I never yet broke an engagement with friend or foe—and never will. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn.
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