" "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. He rose slowly and extended it. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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