It’s a world in which the law can be a stupid pig and the police-stations dirty dens. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. .
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