. Life on the road : or, Claude, Turpin, and Jack, being a complete account of the most daring adventures of the notorious highwaymen, Claude Duval, Dick Turpin, and Sixteen-string Jack. eretonsufficiently apparent. A few moments more and the court-yard, with itsold well, was in total darkness and silence. It seemed, for a few minutes,as though it would be years again before a human voice weald awaken theechoes of that old, deserted, and most melancholy place. But for all that,there were living, beating hearts close at hand, who would soon banish deso-lation and silence from that spot;—it was
. Life on the road : or, Claude, Turpin, and Jack, being a complete account of the most daring adventures of the notorious highwaymen, Claude Duval, Dick Turpin, and Sixteen-string Jack. eretonsufficiently apparent. A few moments more and the court-yard, with itsold well, was in total darkness and silence. It seemed, for a few minutes,as though it would be years again before a human voice weald awaken theechoes of that old, deserted, and most melancholy place. But for all that,there were living, beating hearts close at hand, who would soon banish deso-lation and silence from that spot;—it was not quite sacred to the worms andbeetles of Newgate. CHAPTER XXXVIII. All was still as death itself for the space of about a quarter of an hour, andthen a faint voice spoke. It was the voice of Sixteen-string Jack, but weaktad trembling. Under any other circumstances Claude could scarcely havefcsaid that it was his old friends tones that smote his ears. Claude, Claude, speak to me, if it be but one word, to tell me you are notk\irt.» No, Jack, no. Are you? Thank—God—I Speak again—speak again. What would you say. Jack ? You do not BICK TURPiN, AND SISTEEN-STRING JACg. 151. kaoR^ how much you alarm me by breaking off in such s way. For Heavenssake, Jack let me hear your voice again ! All was still. No voice responded to this earnest appeal of Claudes, and,quite unable longer to control his impatience to know what was the matterwith Jack, he threw off the heap of rubbish that had so well concealed him inthe well, and again cried, as he struggled to his feet— • If you can speak to me, Jack, and it is only one word, it will be the mostacceptable favor you could ever do me in all your life. There was no answer. In perfect desperation Claude felt about him untilhis hand rested upon a face. It must be Jacks; but it was cold, and thedamp of death appeared, to Claudes imagination, to be upon it. •• My poor friend, he cried, my best, bravest, and most devoted Jack,thej ha
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