“It’s all right,” he said, reassuringly to the inquirer without. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. "Show me your warrant!" said Wood, almost driven to his wit's-end; "perhaps it isn't regular?" "Ask him who he is?" suggested Thames. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street.
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