"Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. Thames Street was wholly impassable. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called.
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