. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. Though a thief, Jack Sheppard is a man of his word. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. .
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