Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. Come and help me pack. And their monasteries and convents are still not officially permitted to exist here. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. "Now Sir," he added, glancing suspiciously at the applicant "your business?" "My business is to acquaint you that Jack Sheppard has escaped, Mr.
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