That’s the fact of the matter. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Just as Jack got half way down the stairs, and Wild and the Jew reached the upper landing, the street-door was opened by Langley and Ireton, the latter of whom carried a lantern. You won't mind if I empty this gin?" "No.
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