‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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