“Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. 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. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. I have no intention of arresting you. He drew a little breath and stepped back. " "Come along, then. " "Come along, master," said the waterman. The light disappeared. “Yes.
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