"Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you.
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