I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack.
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