Certain information, it seems, has been received from a female, that Blueskin would be at a flash-ken near the Chase at five o'clock to-day, and they're all set out in the expectation of nabbing him. "I do," replied Jack, carelessly. But those days are over—quite over. Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. I love my husband.
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