A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. You're an angel of goodness. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. Still no sound. They could not go on. Go to her and tell her. What would you? I cannot fight them all. "By the powers!" he added, turning his lantern full upon the face of the captive, "he's a nice gennteel-lookin' kiddy, I must say. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment.
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