" Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, "for oyster tubs renowned," the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. . “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn.
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