"Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek.
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