By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. They shall hear of me no more. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. Wood. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone.
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