"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. I doubt if you will receive anything for your trouble. . Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner. Kneebone and Mr.
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