‘Yes, but quite my own fault. Earles closed the piano with a little bang. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. And I think I will indeed blow off your imbecile head. 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. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you.
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