Though a thief, Jack Sheppard is a man of his word. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. "But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. "Do you think we are to be disturbed in this way? Make less noise, hussies, or I'll turn you out of the Lodge.
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