Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. Take your case, for instance. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. gutenberg.
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