"Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. " O'Higgins tore free the scarlet band of his perfecto, the end of which he bit off with strong white teeth, and smiled. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence.
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