When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. His smile faded. Luck. " "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly.
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