Just as Jack got half way down the stairs, and Wild and the Jew reached the upper landing, the street-door was opened by Langley and Ireton, the latter of whom carried a lantern. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Then she saw him. “Looooo-ceeeeee!!” He yelled, sounding like Desi Arnaz. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. Your maid would not be of the least protection. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend.
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