"I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. ‘Hilary was right. A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. How I could have been such a fool I’ll never know. I will lay them all at your feet. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. Close upon this came another thought. On examining his pockets, he found about twenty guineas in gold, and some silver. ” “Any one could see that the girls were ladies,” Ennison murmured.
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