Wait, though. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. She picked up the hand cannon.
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