"Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. "First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. "Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. He's worth a dozen of you.
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