You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. . Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture.
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