On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. She drank it obediently. It was true. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. Whenever I feel particularly gregarious, I take the launch and run over to Copeley's and play poker for a couple of days. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate.
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