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The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. "Can you make me other than a condemned felon? Can you make me not Jack Sheppard?" "No," replied Blueskin; "and I wouldn't if I could. She was no longer a confederate in that.
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