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If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. The mode of destruction makes no difference. . But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. But though he visited Sir Rowland Trenchard's seat, Ashton Hall, he could gain no tidings of him, or of his uncle, Sir Rowland, who, it seems, has left the country. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. One nail drives out another, it's true; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail.
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