Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish. "By the way," said the doctor, as he sat down in the dining room of the Victoria and ordered tea, "I've been thinking it over.
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