She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. He recognized the face instantly. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody. Sheppard staggered forward. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society.
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