As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother 419 XXIV.
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