Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. It was a moment before he recognised that the effect had been similar on all those present, including General Lord Charvill. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. ‘You will release me at once, imbecile. We're lost.
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