In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely. There stepped forth a tall brown man. Practically. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. He stepped quickly towards her. "Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune surely? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself.
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