" "Ay, here I am," said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general movement of surprise at his audacity. “They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively rude to me because I could not. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. But why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely.
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