" "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. “It’s—private. “I was sick of the make-believe. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. Jolly nose! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight; Such dullards know nothing about it. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?" "Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn. There is no further hope. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. ’ Gerald grinned.
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