Answering him was agonizing. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. Jack turned away with an aching heart. McClintock says they can't get in there, or at least they never try it. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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