ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. ‘I have said that I will tell you nothing of this soi-disant Valade. Spurling and Marvel rose too.
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