Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END.
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