ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. “And where are YOU going?” he said. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. The chance had gone. If you had taken your degree, for example.
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