He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. D'ye hear.
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