Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling.
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