As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. I don’t. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred kindly. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt.
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