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' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. I have always hated it. ’ Mrs Sindlesham shook with laughter. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said.
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