Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. 1. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable.
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