‘They weren’t no soldiers. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. You have only to look resolute and proceed upon your way.
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