‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. "Off with you to Newgate!" cried Jack, "and don't let him out till you get inside the Lodge. It wound around a small manufactured lake. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so.
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