' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. He looked eager and flushed and troubled.
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