Hist!" cried he, as a scream was heard from without. " "Suppose he brings Blueskin, or some other ruffian with him," hesitated the jailer. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. But his hand was withheld by Thames. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields.
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