I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small.
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