Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. “No, those are my brother’s dog tags. ” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. He had not had time to aim the pistol. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me.
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