"Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. Hill lost a little of his truculency. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. It will be his interest to do so. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. “Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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