In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. "Jack Sheppard failed! I'd not believe it, if any one but himself told me so. "I've done no more than my duty, Mrs. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it.
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