Some of these persons were examining the spot where the spike had been cut off; others the spike itself, now considered a remarkable object; and all were marvelling how Jack could have possibly squeezed himself through such a narrow aperture, until it was explained to them by Mr. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. He was an imaginative young man.
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