" "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. " Jack Sheppard again sought his pistol, and was only withheld from levelling it at the thief-taker's head, by the hope that he might gather some further information respecting his mother. She met him by the dugout after the game. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs.
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