We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. While he was thus employed a farming man came into the barn. He was in a curious state of desperation. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him.
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