‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Montressor’s guests were. I done just what you asked. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END.
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