No, never mind about thanking me. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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