Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour.
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