’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. But I liked to say it. "Jack," said Mrs. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. Sheppard, horror-stricken. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard.
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