"It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. " "Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly. I was a novelty. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Likely as not outside the law, too. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. " "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman. Do you expect me, I wonder.
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