In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, sapped asunder the central link by which they were attached to the padlock. The body of Jack Sheppard, meanwhile, was borne along by that tremendous host, which rose and fell like the waves of the ocean, until it approached the termination of the Edgeware Road. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. But I never betray an old customer.
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