As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. "Good night. I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face.
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