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There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. For a space he rode the whirligig. Sheppard ascertained that Thames Darrell had been carried off—where she could not make out—by Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold; and that Jack had been induced to accompany Blueskin to the Mint.

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