“I thought we had discussed that, father. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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