The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. You can come back for these, for you’ll carry him to the gatehouse, that’s what you’ll do. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation.
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