Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. You are my prisoner, murderer. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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