As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. "'Sdeath!" cried Jonathan, staring at the breach in the wall. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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