By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. This became very interesting. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. Sheppard—becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually—provided he escaped the gallows—would descend to her son. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed.
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