” Chapter XII THE POSTER OF “ALCIDE” On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. I don’t defend it. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END.
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