"Very well, Mr. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. " "Your hesitation is not in your favour," observed Trenchard, sternly. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr.
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