Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?" "Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night.
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