“If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She immediately took the pillows from under the head of the man who had two names, released the collar and tie, and arranged the arms alongside the body. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood.
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