It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. It was time to get up. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. “Monsieur admires the poster?” As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence.
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