\"It's getting late John. I freely forgive you. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. ” He closed the door partially behind himself.
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