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The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. "He has just broken out of Newgate. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. There was a case, or something, some years ago. "Jack Sheppard's face is well worth preserving. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled.
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