“Punctual. ” “Where?” He asked. Sheppard. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. A Madame Valade and her husband. I think you’re wrong. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St.
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