Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. You're in luck to-night, widow. ‘Come along. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. ‘I do not know of whom you speak.
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