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Updated: May 16, 2025
But we had our exercise for nothing. The town was as quiet as a graveyard, and the only disturber of the peace that engaged our attention was poor Tom Jessopp, the drayman, who, one night, having drunk more old October than was good for him, encountered us as he was staggering home down Shoplatch, and invited us, first to wet our whistles, and, on our declining, to fight him for a pint.
"How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. "I shall be able to stretch my limbs presently ha! ha!" "Hush!" cried Kneebone, "I hear a noise without. He's coming." The caution was scarcely uttered, when the door opened, and Jack Sheppard presented himself.
Modern improvements have not invaded its quaint streets to any great extent, and many of these still retain their old names Dog-pole, Wylecop and Shoplatch and are bordered by some of the finest half-timbered houses in Britain. Nor is Shrewsbury wanting in famous sons.
The cloth nearly touches the floor. Give me your staff. It'll be in your way." "Suppose he brings Blueskin, or some other ruffian with him," hesitated the jailer. "Suppose he does. In that case I'll help you. We shall be equally matched. You're not afraid, Mr. Shoplatch." "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff. Am I quite hidden?"
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