It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. ' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. I’ll do it. His mouth was sensuous but his eyes became frenetic. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup.
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