“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. She looked at him curiously. Wood,—"he'll never mend. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. ‘Possibly,’ he said. This occasioned a little delay; but Jack, whose skill as a workman in the particular line he had chosen was unequalled, and who laughed at difficulties, speedily cut out a panel by means of a centre-bit and knife, took the key from the other side, and unlocked the door. “Thanks to you. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. He begged their attention for the next turn.
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