He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. A quick flush stained her cheeks. Instead of passing on, as Jack expected, these persons stopped opposite the cage, when one of them, as he judged from the sound, for he did not dare to look out of his hiding place, dismounted. Don't be alarmed by their manners, Mr.
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