I’m not Gerald, remember. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. " "Do you call ten guineas easy terms?" cried Wood, with a look of dismay. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity.
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