You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you've become evidence against your accomplice. Here Hogarth received a private signal from Thornhill to attract Sheppard's attention. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Stay! I'll go myself. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair.
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