A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. " "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. But for him she might have been alive and happy. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity.
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