"And who taught it you—the landlord, Joe Hind?" "No; one Blueskin, a fellow who frequents the Lion," answered Jack, with a degree of candour that astonished his master nearly as much as his confidence. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. She had underestimated his animal ability to sense weakness. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. Presently. A robbery has been committed, and your master suspects this lad as an accessory to the offence.
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