“But perhaps I want to confess them. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. His vocal collection comprised a couple of flash songs pasted against the wall, entitled 'The Thief-Catcher's Prophecy,' and the 'Life and Death of the Darkman's Budge;' while his extraordinary mechanical skill was displayed in what he termed (Jack had a supreme contempt for orthography,) a 'Moddle of his Mas. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions.
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