He drew a little sigh of relief. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. ‘Now then, missie. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed.
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