Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. Not all of us, but some of us. ToC Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement's Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him.
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