Water soaked her through in five minutes. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. The second look told me I was wrong. " "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. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly.
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