" "Death and fiends!" exclaimed Jack; "the old thief is there. ’ ‘Did no one know, then?’ ‘No, for the vicomte, we learned later, wrote to General Lord Charvill in pursuit of his sister. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully.
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