Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. Do not believe it, Madam. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. ‘Do you think I would do to him as he made a threat to do to me? No.
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