Lucy sighed. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr.
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