"At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. She had finally managed to start breaking him down. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. Then, there's Mr. Footman or some such. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate.
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