“How unkind!” she exclaimed. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. ' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. With this person—who was no other than Mr. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. "Ever play one of these machines?" "Yes. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside.
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