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’ There was a pause. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. It was not quite the search I intended,’ he said with a touch of selfmockery as he released her, ‘but success comes in all sorts of unexpected ways. “Which is Mr. 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. There is a small yewtree west of the church.
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