As soon as they had got out, the vehicle was drawn up at the back of a tree near the cage. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick.
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