Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. It brought no coconut. Pardon what I have said, Madam.
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