A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "Bring him along, Joe!" said Jackson, in a whisper to his comrade. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. Give me that precious charge," he added, snatching the bundle from Wood. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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