CHAPTER I. ‘Quick, Gérard. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. She thought of Capes. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. . Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you.
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