"The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. “Run in now. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. Nobody can trust you.
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