"Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ’ A grimace crossed her face. Wait a second. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural.
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