"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. If I do not look after her, she has no one. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. ’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady.
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