CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. .
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