It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. 1 through 1. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps.
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