“But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. I am sure that he can be got rid of. She kept her face downcast. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them.
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