In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Wild," said the turnkey, trembling in every joint. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. " "We shall see," replied Jack.
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