She wanted to turn him. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. "I don't know his name. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast.
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