Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. Sir Montacute had three children—two daughters and yourself. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. . At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls.
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