Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. "I have baffled you. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. It wasn’t pretty. \" Michelle's mother replied from the front room in her sing-song tone. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet.
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