Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. "Well, it's a good story. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman.
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