Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. The Leads. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. ‘I know just what he was doing. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. Something to tell you.
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