"From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. "Good night. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Then came the great day. Still —there you are!” He paused. For the present the desire to fly was gone. "Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head.
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