Spurlock mused over the previous night. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. "To Newgate," cried Jonathan, putting his head out of the window. "Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St.
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