The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. Sometimes I try to talk. So good an opportunity may never occur again. How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant.
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