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Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. ’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole.
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