"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. “Where am I?” he muttered. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. But I'll take care of her bill, if worst comes to worst.
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