“What a hypocrite you are. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. She put her mouth on him. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. That was Leonardo’s motto. But, when he got to the door with this intention, he became ashamed of his fears; and feeling convinced that Jack —bad as he might be—was not capable of such atrocious conduct as to plunder his benefactor twice, he contented himself with looking to the priming of his pistols, and placing them near him, to be ready in case of need, he threw himself on the bed and speedily fell asleep. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks.
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