A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Why not? Quite willing. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. His instinct was in the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his declining years just as he thought fit. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him.
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