She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw.
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