"Bravo," cried Sheppard, examining its contents, which proved to be a file, a chisel, two or three gimblets, and a piercer. The boy was coming around. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score.
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