"Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. "I carried them off on the fatal night when we got into Wild's house, and you were struck down," replied Blueskin.
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