When about to retire to rest, the rencounter with Jack Sheppard again recurred to him, and he half blamed himself for not acquainting Mr. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. Jack! Mon dieu, but he was unarmed. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright.
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