Thus died Jack Sheppard. “I was able to borrow the money. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign.
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