“A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. " He passed it over; and Ruth read: To be opened in case of my death and the letter inside forwarded to the address thereon. I’m not that sort I quite agree. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone.
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