Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. " "Pshaw!" cried Thames. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan.
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