” Lucy said, frowning. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. "What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. CHAPTER XXVII. Sepulchre's. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. You won't have him long.
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