“I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly.
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