" "En-shad-ay. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. " "That isn't the point, Hoddy. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard.
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