' 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. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. She did her best to do this. Earles declared good-humouredly, “but I shall not let you go without drinking a glass of wine to our success. ” “But how did you tell him? You’ve never told me.
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