ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. ’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure.
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