He dared not go on. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. ” “Did any one see you leave the flat?” he asked. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. First, look at this glove. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Charvill’s fury was burning out. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over.
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