"Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. It was now a quarter past twelve.
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