Their small talk continued. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. She laughed a little contemptuously. " "What is it?" asked the poor woman. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. "Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently.
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