"Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. "Do you wish to earn a rich reward, my good friend?" said Thames to the watchman, as soon as they were left alone. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out.
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