“There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. " "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END.
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