“Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead.
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