At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. “We can,” he said, “and we will. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Just one thing more. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation.
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