On receiving the warning note from the ostler, Jack Sheppard and his companion left Willesden, and taking—as a blind—the direction of Harrow, returned at nightfall by a by-lane to Neasdon, and put up at a little public-house called the Spotted Dog. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. Excited by the scene, Jack, however, could pay little attention to the good man's discourse, and was lost in a whirl of tumultuous emotions. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. “Julian, please wait.
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