I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Best assured of that.
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