. As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. More importantly, she had her wits. But I'll tell you about him some other time. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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