” He drank. "Wretch!" cried Jack. His age was not far from fifty. Sheppard. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box.
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