"By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. " "Then, most probably, it was the widow Sheppard," answered Blueskin, sulkily. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. Marry, come up! I've been a great deal too charitable. He had thought it might have that effect. . Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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