“There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. But it was of no avail. " This business over, she returned to the bedside with the key. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. 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.
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