“Am I dull?” she said. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. “Mr. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. Those were dreams. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. Yon must be mine to-night.
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