She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. Mr. ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. "You've got to kill me to get out of here alive. . .
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