Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. You are the High Priestess of Life. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. Plote was sleeping or deaf.
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