’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. Jonathan, who with the other constables had reconnoitred this band, and recognised in its ring-leader, Blueskin, commanded the constables to follow him, and made a sally for the purpose of seizing him. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up.
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