It was Blueskin. . A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Wood scarcely knew where he was. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so.
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