rather he is a bad lot, for they are mere puppets in his hands."
"Not quite that," said I. "I don't suppose they would be much without him, but they are following him with a will."
"That may be," he replied; "but now tell me, how shall we work it? We have no time to lose, for he knows we are coming."
"I don't see how he could know it," said I, "unless he is the devil himself."
Jack gave a short but unpleasant chuckle; then he said,
"Well, perhaps he is; he is bad enough to be, or else I am much mistaken. Anyway, he knows we are coming; that is why the malignant look is partly hidden; he is getting ready for us."
I wished for the light that I might see Jack's face, for his voice began to have an odd ring about it. Then I said, "What can he want with us, Jack?"
"I don't know," he said, "but I made a study of his face just now. I'm not much on—what do you call it?—physiognomy? but that beggar's face told me a story."
"What was the story?"
"Well, that he knows we are coming, and that he