"Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. I am come to serve you. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. CHAPTER I. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. . . And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot.
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