" Jack, meanwhile, was carried to Newgate. ‘Dear me. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard.
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