"I was afraid it would be so. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. , etc. He returned, blue towel in hand. "Very well, Mr. Just then—I was nervous. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. "Like a hero," answered Austin.
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