The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. He smiled inwardly. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. " She showed him the locket; and he studied the face.
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