" "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. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. Now tell them why. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand.
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