"Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. Practically. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. “My God!” he said again. That’s how it takes me.
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