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How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. You will be my witness, Madame Joan. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major.
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