"Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. Mr. He winced from the wasp-like sting.
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