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Sir John saw it, and was flattered. Move. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. "Here, Caliban," shouted the under-turnkey, "unlock Captain Sheppard's padlock, and tell him his wives are in the Lodge waiting to see him.
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