"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. She could not speak. " "You won't complain of the delay when I tell you what I've done," answered Jack. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "I should be perfectly miserable if I thought you in earnest. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Not a scar but has its history. No tricks would serve. First the passage to be negotiated. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. In the pause she realized the attention of the others converged upon her, and that the tears were brimming over her eyes. Thus died Jack Sheppard. Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale. ‘I’ve had enough of this.
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