“Then—then we can talk things out. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Oh, Jack! repent, while it is yet time, of your evil conduct.
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