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Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. "Where are the boys?" "In the hall. Drink the toast, Jack. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. " The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection.
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