Alban's to-night. You love money. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them. Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames.
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