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“And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. What was his problem, she thought to herself. Sheppard, as I told you, is in Bedlam, an incurable maniac; while her son is in the New Prison, whence he will only be removed to Newgate and Tyburn. She told you —the truth. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. Very likely by this time the whole truth is known.
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