” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. I took the usual way home. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. .
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