With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys. “I killed him. It was as if he could smell it on her. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector. "Certainly not," replied Gay.
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