"Something fresh on hand, I suppose?" "I'm come to inquire after Jack Sheppard," returned Jonathan. ” The lights were lowered, and an attentive waiter hovered round Anna’s cloak. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. " "She has paid dearly for it," muttered Blueskin. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. Wood, in equal trepidation.
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