Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. "'I have succeeded in capturing Jack Sheppard. It's as well to be on the safe side. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously.
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