‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. Purney, the present ordinary of Newgate. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how.
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