"I see you don't know him as well as you pretend. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. “Yeah. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. You know that, and I know that, though we might be put to it to find a reason why.
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