“Cheveney!” she repeated. Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly.
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