Cathy's eyebrows perked up. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. He was followed, more leisurely, by the prisoners; and, during their ascent, Jack Sheppard made a second attempt to escape by ducking suddenly down, and endeavouring to pass under his conductor's legs. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. “I think I ought to have one. You’ve got to take what you can get.
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