" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. I’ve got imagination. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Of Jack Sheppard or the assailants they could not discover a single trace. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob.
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