” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. "A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. .
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