The aunt laughed. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. "Farewell!" cried Jack, embracing them. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. " "I am one-and-twenty," observed Jack. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second.
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