" "I didn't want it," replied Jack; "but who are those gentlemen?" "Friends of yours," replied Figg; "come to see you;—Sir James Thornhill, Mr. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. I have calculated my chances, you perceive. 196 Succeeded where she had not. I ought to have gone long ago. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly.
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