‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. ” “That brings us back,” said Ann Veronica, “to the mystery. ' It is signed JACK SHEPPARD. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. We all get deceived sometimes.
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