" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket.
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