CHAPTER XXIII. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. But I sent him the longest way about. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. Ramage demurred. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. I did not choose to mention my knowledge of this fact to your worthy father; but you may rely on its correctness. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. ‘You’ll make shadows.
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