" "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. “Get out of the car.
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