” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. ‘Ah. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. 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.
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