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Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. But woe to those who disregard them! Of course, basically it is all wrong; and sometimes God must laugh at our ideas of rectitude. As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. God help me. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard.
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