The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. “Do you need me to remind you that your patient is bleeding to death?” He dropped on his knees by the man’s side and made a hurried examination.
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