Mr. Brendon was silent. Between the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. They were those of the Irish watchman. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. He upset some one —probably Mr. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin.
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