Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. Tell him the truth, Annabel. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so.
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