It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. All her life Martha had been there. Still —there you are!” He paused. " "Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker brutally. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. Now let us forget it. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. Gay," he added, turning to the poet.
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