Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. " "De gentleman may rely on my showing his relation all de attention in my power," replied Van Galgebrok, bowing profoundly to the knight; "but if any unforseen accident—such as a slip overboard—should befal de jonker on de voyage, he mushn't lay de fault entirely on my shoulders—haw! haw!" "Where is he?" asked Sir Rowland, glancing uneasily around. Loneliness. I cannot let you go.
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