" "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. I should be sorry if Shotbolt got the reward. She placed her kills near the Senewac City jail that summer, burying the remains in the forest preserves outlying Greene County. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself.
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