” The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. I bent over him. CHAPTER XXVIII. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.
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