"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Neither their mother nor Sebastian noticed, as certain members of the house had taken to avoiding each other. “Thank you,” she said coolly. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. Here the prisoners took exercise; and a quaint, but striking picture has been left of their appearance when so engaged, by the author of the English Rogue.
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