We're two good-looking fellows, ain't we?" "Very good-looking," replied Rachel. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. The big pay strikes them; but when they find there's no place to spend it, good-bye!" Tom the cook came in with the chops and the potatoes—the doctor's dinner— and McClintock fell to with a gusto which suggested that there was still some liver under his ribs. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. Thus died Jack Sheppard. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign.
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