Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. And when she took and married that Mr Charvill, we didn’t think to see her at Remenham House no more. I had that coming. I will shed no more blood.
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