" "What a mistake!" "Yes. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. "Jack Sheppard knows this house, I believe, Sir," observed Shotbolt. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. All these things spoke of peace;—but there are seasons when the pleasantest external influences have a depressing effect on the mind, by painfully recalling past happiness.
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