She donned her gloves. "Basely and inhumanly murdered, by Jack Sheppard and Blueskin," continued Kneebone. " "But I'm a poor man. ” The man made no attempt to recover the revolver. “It’s very good,” she said. " "I'm a doctor. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts.
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