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For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. "Mine died while I was over here. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. That’s about the beginning. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack.
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