‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone. Here we go, thought Gerald. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. The south or principal front, looking, down the Old Bailey, and not upon it, as is the case of the present structure, with its massive walls of roughened freestone,—in some places darkened by the smoke, in others blanched, by exposure to the weather,—its heavy projecting cornice, its unglazed doubly-grated windows, its gloomy porch decorated with fetters, and defended by an enormous iron door, had a stern and striking effect. She leaves me almost without comparisons. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise.
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