The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. " "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. Taber?" He wondered if this crystal being was interested in that blundering fool who had gone recklessly into the city. No more scuffling. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack.
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