“I ate their mother first. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill. Loving was better than that.
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