All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which, he was glad to find, consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen and other guardians of the night.
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