ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. She held up the lamp. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Wild's name. ‘All right, Trodger. “She tried everything, and last of all she tried the stage. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged.
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