I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. She heard him come in; the light burned on. She could not stir hand or foot. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. "I'll be their substitute. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men.
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