Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. 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. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years.
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