At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. There was nothing to be learned from her face. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. Besides, there are greater rascals than Jack Sheppard at liberty, Sir Rowland. The signal of distress was evidently understood.
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