" Lady Trafford sighed deeply. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. She turned her head to each side. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. "A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. His vocal collection comprised a couple of flash songs pasted against the wall, entitled 'The Thief-Catcher's Prophecy,' and the 'Life and Death of the Darkman's Budge;' while his extraordinary mechanical skill was displayed in what he termed (Jack had a supreme contempt for orthography,) a 'Moddle of his Mas.
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