One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers.
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