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"No such thing," rejoined Thames. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. He was followed, more leisurely, by the prisoners; and, during their ascent, Jack Sheppard made a second attempt to escape by ducking suddenly down, and endeavouring to pass under his conductor's legs. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. Better get a dress. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. .
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