Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. "Jack Sheppard knows this house, I believe, Sir," observed Shotbolt. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. Entranced, he stared at the name. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. "My plan is a very simple one," rejoined the thief-taker smiling bitterly.
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