ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told.
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