” Brendon laughed softly. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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