‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. . ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. " "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. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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