" "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. . ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. A noise was next heard, as if some instrument were applied to the door with the intent to force it open, and Jack's fears were at once dispelled, At first, he had imagined they were officers of justice, come to convey him to a stronger prison: but the voice of one of the parties, which he recognised, convinced him they were his friends. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDUyLjE1LjU2LjEyIC0gMzAtMDktMjAyNCAyMzowMToxOCAtIDQzMzMzODg2Mw==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 13:42:40