"At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. ‘Certainly I am catholique. Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale. 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. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing.
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