Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. "The feeling is dead within my breast. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother 419 XXIV. The resemblance was amazing! And some man—he was good-looking—was in the background.
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