Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone.
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