"Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door. You mustn't go by what you read so much as by what you see and hear. The last that is known of Monsieur Charvill is when he departed the Valade estate. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. "Help!—help, Mr.
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