At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard.
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