" "Fool!" cried Wild, taking up the body, "what are you afraid of? After all," he added, pausing, "he may be of more use to me alive than dead. My only love is for my poor lost son. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe.
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