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. “We can,” he said, “and we will. They will say that it was murder. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. A town called Foster. I defy you to explain it away. Groans and hoots were now raised by the crowd, and there was an evident disposition to rescue. But Sheppard answered for him.
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