’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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