I don’t know. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted.
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