“Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. They are horrible.
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