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“You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard.
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