Sheppard, fervently. Her little white hand stole across the table. They struck her as cold and indifferent. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so.
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