They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. ” He said. But what's to be done?" "The first thing I do," replied Jack, "will be to visit my poor mother in Bedlam. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack.
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