” For the moment her aunt could not think of any reply to this counterstroke, and Ann Veronica followed up her advantage by a sudden inquiry about her abandoned boots. Spurlock looked up. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history— especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic.
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