“How’s Mrs. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. "Gentlemen," returned the Master, solemnly, "it is a question easily answered— they are NOWHERE! Had they hanged the bailiffs, the bailiffs would not have hanged them. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Sheppard despairingly. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him.
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