" "So I find, Captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; "but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. It was time to get up. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. White said slowly, “it depends a good deal upon what rooms you have. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
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