"Is it poison?" she asked. "But I have one last request to make. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Kneebone will excuse you. Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut.
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