"Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. “Ciao. You wish another name? Eh bien.
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