From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. That is the dreadful truth. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him.
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