"Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. "At a thought. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. "So, you young fool, I have found you!" she said, harshly. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head.
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