Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. . She calmed herself, breathing deeply. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. “You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this. "I've counted ten coffins so far.
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