” Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, and flung it back in Hill’s face. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. “What do you think of that?” he asked. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen.
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