He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. "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. Why is the door fastened? Open it directly!" "Are you alone?" asked Jack, mimicking the voice of Kneebone. Grudgingly he admired her.
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