Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. "That's well. His client’s story is safe with him. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. " "Very well. Besides, didn't I tell you that I giv' him as good as he brought—and better! I jist touched him with my 'Evenin' Star,' as I call this shillelah," said the watchman, flourishing an immense bludgeon, the knob of which appeared to be loaded with lead, "and, by Saint Patrick! down he cum'd like a bullock. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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