A common rage flushed their faces. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. However this may be now, it was unquestionably true of old Newgate. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest.
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