"And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n. Forgive me.
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