“I don't wonder at it,” rejoined Gay.
Here Hogarth received a private signal from Thornhill to attract Sheppard's attention.
“And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?” remarked Hogarth.
“That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. Hogarth, before the jailer,” replied Jack. “But I tell you frankly, and Mr. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not.”
“Well said, Jack,” cried Figg. “Never give in.”
“Well,” observed Hogarth, “if, fettered as you are, you contrive to break out of this dungeon, you'll do what no man ever did before.”
A peculiar smile illuminated Jack's features.
“There it is!” cried Sir James, eagerly. “There's the exact expression I want. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it.”
And, with a few magical touches, he stamped the fleeting expression on the canvass.
“I have it too!” exclaimed Hogarth, busily plying his pencil. “Gad! it's a devilish fine face when lit up.”