" "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. " "You won't complain of the delay when I tell you what I've done," answered Jack. The rest was easy. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He addressed the boy as Jay. 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.
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