Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. Wood required little pressing. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him.
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