Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. John exited quickly from the side of the stage and returned to where his mother and father sat. " "Indeed!—who is it?" "Jack Sheppard. I'm going through his pockets.
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