Petrified and speechless, he turned an imploring look at Wild, who was himself filled with astonishment at the pile of rubbish lying before him. "That's it!"—eagerly. For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son.
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