’ ‘Je m’en moque. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. Suspending his labour on Jack's appearance, the man demanded his business. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. It is not at all what I expected either. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. How Jack Sheppard got out of the Condemned Hold.
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