He was profoundly stirred. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. "Can you make me other than a condemned felon? Can you make me not Jack Sheppard?" "No," replied Blueskin; "and I wouldn't if I could. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course.
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