For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. While he was thus employed, his nerves underwent a severe shock. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. "Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. " "Hear me, Blueskin," said Jonathan, restraining his choler.
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