She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time.
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