“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling. "It can't be Captain Sheppard!" "It is," replied Jack; "and you had better have met the devil on your road than me. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. I wouldn't accept my life from him.
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