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. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount.
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