Quelch is not a horse, that I am aware of."

"We won't quarrel about the animal, my dear madam, but you may depend
upon it, my solution's right. A hardened villain, like myself, say,
would never have got into such a scrape, but Quelch don't know
enough of the world to keep himself out of mischief. They've got
him in quod, that's clear, and the best thing you can do is to send
the coin and get him out again."

"Send money to those swindling Frenchmen? Never! If Benjamin is
in prison I will fetch him out myself."

"You would never risk that dreadful sea passage!" exclaimed Mrs.
Fladgate. "And how will you manage the language? You don't understand
French."

"Oh, I shall do very well," said the heroic woman. "They won't talk
French to _me_!"

That same night a female passenger crossed by the boat from Newhaven
to Dieppe. The passage was rough, and the passenger was very seasick;
but she still sat grimly upright, never for one moment relaxing her
grasp on the handle of her silk umbrella. What she went through on
landing, how she finally obtained her husband's release, and what
explanations passed between the reunited pair, must be left to
the reader's imagination, for Mrs. Quelch never told the story.
Twenty-four hours later a four-wheeled cab drew up at the Quelchs'
door, and from it descended, first a stately female, and then a
woe-begone little man, in a soft felt hat and a red necktie, both
sorely crushed and soiled, with a black bag in his hand. "Is there