"You may," replied Jack: "I'll fight for you to the last gasp. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. . " "Permit me to see it, Sir James!" requested Jack.
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