ToC Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement's Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. Sheppard, meekly. You see—I didn’t understand. Disperse in every direction. You are not going to that infidel Russell’s classes.
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