Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t.
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