It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. "Now Sir," he added, glancing suspiciously at the applicant "your business?" "My business is to acquaint you that Jack Sheppard has escaped, Mr. ” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. "As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey.
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