Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. ” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. I was not even sure whether it was loaded.
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