I cannot go on. He had heard everything. There was little fighting spirit here. 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. As he passed the Six Bells, he noticed the steeds of the two horsemen at the door; and glancing into the house, perceived the younger of the two in the passage. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. . I don’t care what divides us. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy.
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