" "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. The manager tells me that you are an American. Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him. He held her eyes. They had their little dreams about her. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself.
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