His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. Jack's life hangs on your determination. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. "Thames was always your favourite," observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another.
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