" "And have my escapes really made so much noise as to reach the ear of royalty?" mused Jack. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. "Mr. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack.
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