In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. " The spinster had no retort to offer such directness. Her thick body was heavy and massive. First-off, he had decided not to tell her what he had found at the bottom of that manila envelope. 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. How Jack Sheppard was again captured 367 XV.
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