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. "Lean on me," said Jack. ” Lucy put her hand to her heart and pulled one of her kinky curls straight. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. She acted as her mother had taught her to. . Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. He looked at her reproachfully.
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