It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. “I’m next, Mr. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before.
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