It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. "Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains.
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