‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Prison was beastly. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. He dropped the key on the counterpane. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Understanding the appeal, the man snatched his master's sword from his grasp, and passed it through Darrell's body.
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