"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. ‘I’ll make it, miss. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason.
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