What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. " CHAPTER V. "If any one's to blame, it's me. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ‘Don’t lose your temper again.
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