A species of vertigo seized him. ” Lucy snickered. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. "The key," replied the widow. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. CHAPTER III. . .
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