" Jonathan made no answer, but snatching a torch from a bystander, jumped into the trench and commenced a diligent search. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. ‘I am not a murderer. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. Shortly a man descended laboriously. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. When I've escorted you proud fool to his new quarters, I'll proceed to the Mint and look after Jack Sheppard. Of course, he had no idea who I was.
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