“MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. Thus died Jack Sheppard. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. "Something fresh on hand, I suppose?" "I'm come to inquire after Jack Sheppard," returned Jonathan. "Stir a foot, at your peril. There never is much left for me. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. You have been her guardian angel.
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