Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. The night was now profoundly dark. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. That’s the flat business situation. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter.
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