"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. ” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge.
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