“I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. " "Law! Miss," observed the maid, "there's nothing mischievous in the person's appearance, I'm sure. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Vite, I pray you. You say you have twenty-four hundred in your letter of credit. They must be for your father. " "Then, we'll lose no more time," returned Jack. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imaginable, he had a very fine set of teeth. .
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