“It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought.
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