“You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. 'Mrs. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it—that's all. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort.
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