Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother 419 XXIV. Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. ” The doors at the other end of the hall opened.
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