He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. ” “You can’t be killed?” He asked.
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