" "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. Oh God! my limbs fail me. ’ Trodger eyed her with suspicion. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. “Thank you—for coming,” he said.
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