ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. "I'll tell you a dream I had last night," continued the unfortunate being. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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