And, lastly, there's Mr. "An idea has just occurred to me," said Gay, "which Jack's narrative has suggested. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. Wood, at the top of her voice. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. In this screen, which masked the entrance of a dark passage communicating with the Condemned Hold, about five feet from the ground, was a hatch, protected by long spikes set six inches apart, and each of the thickness of an elephant's tusk.
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