"At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out. “The Widgetts,” she said. Retreating as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment, fortunately discovered a skreen, behind which he crept. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin.
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