"I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows. She elected to go to prison. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. "I am an officer in the execution of my duty. He said the place had gone to wrack.
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