"What—what would you do?" asked Hogarth, eagerly.
"Run away with her," replied Gay.
"Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. But he afterwards acted upon the suggestion.
"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. "Rather in the way. Send you the shirt. Here, turnkey. Couple of guineas to drink Captain Sheppard's speedy escape. Thank him, not me, man. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. If not, keep up your spirits. Die game."
"Never fear," replied Jack. "If I get free, I'll have a bout with you at all weapons. If not, I'll take a cheerful glass with you at the City of Oxford, on my way to Tyburn."
"Give you the best I have in either case," replied Figg. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure.
Sir James Thornhill, then, rose.
"I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. "I've done all I can to the portrait here. I must finish it at home."
"Permit me to see it, Sir James!" requested Jack. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. "What would my poor mother say to it?"
"I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth.