‘I see well that I am dealing with you. He was silent. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. 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. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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