JACK SHEPPARD. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. She would not let her move. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. Brendon made a quick movement forward. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key. CHAPTER XXIV.
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