Oh, John. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. . That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge.
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