The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. . ” “You’ll never pay me. It is bad policy. ‘And nor do I. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare.
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