” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. "Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. Sheppard. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. " "Knock him on the head," thundered Sir Cecil, "or we shall have the watch upon us.
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