She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. I was his wife. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Ramage, speaking the simplest first thought of his heart. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. "Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. "But I appeal to you, Sir James, whether it isn't extraordinary that so very slight a person should be such a desperate robber as he is represented—so young, too, for such an old offender.
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