" "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. " "None whatever," replied the mob. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss.
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