' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. Unless he deserts the girl, he won't be so hard to find as formerly. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. He had chosen his time well. CHAPTER I. I won't give him a chance. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica.
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