" Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. “You poor thing. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. “Yes. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. ToC Mr.
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