Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. “Leave them!” He yelled. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. The hansom drove off.
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