"Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. “I do,” he answered. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. “What a hypocrite you are. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others. ‘As Madame Valade, you will be an émigré, not a nun. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously.
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