"What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. Your adoptive father understands mankind better. Are you quite shure you haven't another alyas, Masther Thames Ditton?" "Darrell, I tell you. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves.
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