Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. Used to play together, we did, all over Remenham House. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "That's false!" cried Mrs. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard.
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