But, feeling secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time. But it’s as you say. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. "It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us.
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