Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole.
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