"I don't know his name. . " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. Something in her tone made him look up. The Procession to Tyburn. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew.
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