" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Some foul murder has been committed. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. "If Jack Sheppard sups with Mr. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside.
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