Send for Mr. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. He did not speak for a moment. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. "Here's the full, true, and particular account of Jack Sheppard's last astonishing and never-to-be-forgotten escape from the Castle of Newgate," bawled the hawker, "with a print of him taken from the life, showing the manner, how he was shackled and handcuffed. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. Do sit down, dear boy. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,—one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening.
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