272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She led him up the long hall solemnly. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?" "Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. “I love you, you know. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly.
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