” “How?” He asked. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. Enchanted. ” “And I,” Brendon said, humbly, “although I am afraid there is no chance for me, my errand was the same. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. "Defend yourself!" cried Jack, drawing his sword. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury.
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