How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons 429 XXVI. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. She crept out of the shadows. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. That’s all.
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