She laughed a little bitterly. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. She decided to call in the help of Teddy Widgett, or, failing him, of one of his sisters. She let out a wail. Then a surge of rage welled up. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer.
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