While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. Perhaps she was. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. The commissionaire smiled. It was hot and dry. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him.
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