He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. "I have just parted from one," said Trenchard.
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