While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. We don’t want no trouble, do we?’ At sight of him, everything went out of Melusine’s head but the thought of Jack Kimble. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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