"Are you not content with the crimes you have committed, —but you must carry your villany to this point. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Glancing at each other, they rose from their seats and ventured to address the captain. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. You care for me a little, I know. He was wary of her, which meant that perhaps they had found one or many of the bodies that she thought she had hidden so well.
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