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" "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 you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. But," said the fellow, with a laugh, "he soon contrived to make his way out on it, though. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. " "Ha!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting, "is he so highly born?" "This letter will inform you," replied Wild, placing a document in his hand. This was irregular. Back, that you may be close together. I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. “You were booked of course. She came to adore them.
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