“It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. She had warned him. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites.
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