ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. In fact, it had been anciently the right hand postern under the gate leading towards the city. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. " "You once saw a man die that way?" the manager echoed, his recent puzzlement returning full tide.
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