Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat.
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