Ennison looked down on him in disgust. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. I don’t know. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. He bullied frankly. Sir John hesitated. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport. " "Indeed!—who is it?" "Jack Sheppard.
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