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It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. Between the two officers, with their arms linked in his, Jack Sheppard was conducted to the cart. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. “Very,” said Mr. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them.
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