The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir.
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