"It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. I——” The door was thrown open. You see—I didn’t understand. “We won’t. " While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. He became a little less en garde. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. " "Execrable villain!" exclaimed Jack.
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