Smith, hounded and hunted, finds that he is not without friends - and that freedom is but a narrow climb towards the sky; then a skip and a scramble over the roofs and away.
Smith, and Jack - Black Jack, Jack Black - limping, smiling, whispering Jack. But there's gallantry on the common too, riding high on the snaffling lay. And justice is done to all - even Smith. So God Save the King.
Meet Smith: small but wiry, like a cat in an alley - as a young pickpocket needs to be in the stews of eighteenth-century London. He is on the run, and in mortal danger from enemies both known and unknown.