Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. ’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. CHAPTER X.
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