Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. " "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. Purney, the present ordinary of Newgate. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. "I shall like to call you that. Wood,—"he'll never mend.
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