" There was a brief, breathless pause. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. Sepulchre's. The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end.
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