They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. . . " "On the contrary," rejoined Smith, looking askance at his companion, "I happen to know you're in the right. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. ‘I was just looking the place over when I heard you calling out. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. How perfectly charming. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home.
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