ToC In consequence of Jack Sheppard's desperate character, it was judged expedient by the keeper of the New Prison to load him with fetters of unusual weight, and to place him in a cell which, from its strength and security, was called the Newgate Ward. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting. “You poor thing.
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