‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. A nurse came hurrying up. Let me keep him. Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. “She means to go. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. Now drop it. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price.
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