"'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Doesn’t know where he is, thought the captain. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage. I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else.
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