"Your answer!" cried Sheppard. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. It’s just hard to keep things from her. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman's care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design—for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it,—of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey.
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