"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation.
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