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Come and see him, Lucia. ” There was a moment’s silence. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. “Where are we going?” Lucy asked desperately as Michelle began to twitch with greater frequency.
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