She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. He stopped before her suddenly. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. Go on and tell me. I would be too 222 busy protecting you. ‘I’ll make you an offer. ‘No need to upset yourself. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible.
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