‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Got the day off.
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