Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, "We shall meet again. But ——” A look checked him. When he returned, it was always the same.
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