Jack Sheppard is the talk and terror of the whole town. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. His deduction was correct that the beauty of Ruth Enschede could not remain hidden long even on a forgotten isle. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. "Don't stir," replied Jack. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. ” “That sounds more promising,” Lady Lescelles declared. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully.
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