Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. "With all my heart!" replied Wood.
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