The Ragged Edge. Alors, how did you get in?’ ‘Oh, we broke in,’ Gerald told her cheerfully. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Mrs. ToC Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement's Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night.
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