‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. I am dreadfully sad. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. ‘I know that, miss. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack.
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