Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. " "Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood; "what's to pay, David?" "Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" "Not a drop more," replied Wood. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. “Mr.
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