The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that.
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