In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Do you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen. " "Do not distress him, dear father," said Winifred; "he suffers deeply. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it.
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