What is it?" "Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. His literary instincts began to stir.
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