" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. Shotbolt?" rejoined the executioner. ” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him. The gallows has groaned for him for years.
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