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‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. ‘I do not see at all. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table.
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