‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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