A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. “But your sister,” he said. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. “Forgive you, indeed. "Get it over quickly," said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker.
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