Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. He handed Ruth a letter. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. And you know all about that shot. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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