"I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. "It is the last," continued the knight, sternly; "and I trust we may never meet again, I have paid you this large sum—not because you are entitled to it, for you have failed in what you undertook to do, but because I desire to be troubled with you no further. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times.
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