If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it—that's all. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. A creeping numbness invaded her. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. "Go on first with the light," he said. " "But you can imagine it. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything.
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