And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. White told me where to find you. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge.
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