‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. ‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas.
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