The servants had left the room. \"No, but thank you. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. Thus died Jack Sheppard. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them.
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