Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. . The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door.
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