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The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. I think you will find that his story will be believed, whatever I say; and in any case, if he is going to stay on here, I shall have to go away. "You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. ” “Where?” Courtlaw asked quickly. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. The Burglary at Dollis Hill 249 III. Your mind is still subtly sick. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that.
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