’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over.
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