In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired.
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