Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. E. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. “Lucy Albert, sir. But I liked to say it. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
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