CHAPTER VIII. " "Very well. I have found you. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. Fortescue?” “At your service. This was just what he needed. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that.
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