w a quarter
past twelve. Mr. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and
snuffed the candles.

"I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he
remarked.

"Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer.

"How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. "Rather cramped,
eh?"

"Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. "I shall be
able to stretch my limbs presently--ha! ha!"

"Hush!" cried Kneebone, "I hear a noise without. He's coming."

The caution was scarcely uttered, when the door opened, and Jack
Sheppard presented himself. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which
he threw off on his entrance into the room. It has been already
intimated that Jack had an excessive passion for finery; and it might
have been added, that the chief part of his ill-gotten gains was devoted
to the embellishment of his person. On the present occasion, he appeared
to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. His
apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by
persons of the highest distinction. It consisted of a full-dress coat of
brown flowered velvet, laced with silver; a waistcoat of white satin,
likewise richly embroidered; shoes with red heels, and large diamond
buckles; pearl-coloured silk stockings with gold clocks; a muslin
cravat, or steen-kirk, as it was termed, edged with the fine point lace;
ruffles of the same material, and so ample as almost to hide the tips of
his fingers; and a silver-hilted sword. This costume, though somewhat
extravagant, displayed his slight, but perfectly-proportioned figure to
the greatest advantage. The only departure which he made from the
fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke--an article he could
never be induced to wear. In lieu of it, he still adhered to the sleek
black crop, which, throughout life, formed a distinguishing feature in
his appearance. Ever since the discovery of his relationship to the
Trenchard family, a marked change had taken place in Jack's demeanour
and looks, which were so much refined and improved that he could
scarcely be recognised as the same person. Having only seen him in the
gloom of a dungeon, and loaded with fetters, Kneebone had not noticed
this alteration: but he was now greatly struck by it. Advancing towards
him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned.

"I am expected, I find," observed Jack, glancing at the well-covered
board.