"One-and-twenty, ah!" repeated Gay. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. " "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. ‘How happy for you that Valade came to take you away from France,’ he said encouragingly, adding with one of those intimate looks, ‘Happy for me, too. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient.
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