By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. The shock and distress were genuine. "In with him!" "Ay—ay, yer hon'r," cried the foremost chairman, lending a helping hand. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed.
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