"It can't be Captain Sheppard!" "It is," replied Jack; "and you had better have met the devil on your road than me. You shall know the truth. Then I saw Mrs. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. " "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly.
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