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Updated: June 1, 2025
"We can't go out the front," Rick murmured. "They'd see us. That car stopped right in front. Let's see if there's a back entrance of some kind." He led the way to the rear of the jail building, walking carefully in the darkness. There were windows but they were barred. He carefully felt his way past the jail's only cell, and along the back wall. Outside, a motor spun into life. Rick whirled.
And I'm in a ten times worse fix. I've chucked up a steamer-berth at Genoa; I'm on a God-forsaken island where there's next to no sea-traffic; and I've run up debts with no prospect of repayment. It looks a bit as if jail's somewhere very close under my lee. And whom have we to thank for it? Why you, my sportsman, and no one else." "Great heavens, what do you mean?"
I'm pore trash, an' I reckon the jail's as good as the pore-house for me, ef they want to send me thair, fur it's in town, and Roxy kin come an' look through the bars at me every day." Roxy was so much affected that she threw her apron up to her face, and Vesta and Phoebus had to smile, while Samson Hat, looking indulgently on, exclaimed, "Dar's love all froo de woods.
Bluntly he said: "As far as jail's concerned, others might be getting their deserts there too." The senator looked keenly at Grimsby from under his white eyebrows. Then in a calm, decisive tone he replied: "It's no question of a cheque this time. The road could not buy Judge Rossmore with $200,000. He is absolutely unapproachable in that way." The apoplectic face of Mr. Grimsby looked incredulous.
It's twenty mile away; and coming back I begs a trifle on the road. To jail with him! At last, the constable, the keeper anybody finds me anywhere, a-doing anything. To jail with him, for he's a vagrant, and a jail-bird known; and jail's the only home he's got. The Alderman nodded sagaciously, as who should say, 'A very good home too! 'Do I say this to serve MY cause! cried Fern.
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