ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. I might have known it. “But about last night. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. You know that. She rode him gently. "My father!" she whispered.
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