"Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. "One of us has got to die," he panted. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. On that morning the death warrant had arrived from Windsor, ordering Sheppard for execution, (since his capture by Jonathan Wild in Bedlam, as related in a former chapter, Jack had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death,) together with three other malefactors on the following Friday. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch.
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