"Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. Pah! What a pig is this générale. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. Wood scarcely knew where he was. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. "I shan't sleep a wink while Jack Sheppard's in the house. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that.
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