But, Gerald, do you believe there is a secret passage indeed?’ ‘Well, we covered every inch of the house and grounds, and I swear she never left that room by way of the door. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. My late husband, I mean. While there's life there's hope.
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