He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. “Where are we going?” Lucy asked desperately as Michelle began to twitch with greater frequency. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. “An Oracle is a predictor of the future. The light would betray us. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated.
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