“If I thought for a moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and tell him the truth even now. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
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