He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you've become evidence against your accomplice. “Thank you—and good-bye. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position.
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