270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. Wood. When I've had an hour's rest, I'll be after Blueskin. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END.
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