“I wouldn’t. It was not for a week or a month. " While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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