"You've got him?" demanded Ireton. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. "I am content," said Jack. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet.
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