This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "Get from under it, Jack!" vociferated Thames. Walking to the station with him.
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