Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “Mr. The Disguise 261 VI. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you.
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