"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head.
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