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In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. She turned quickly.

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