Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody.
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