In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. “I don’t take any prisoners, John! You do not want this life!” “Yes I do! I am an adult. An electric light flashed out from the wall. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think. Was there anything he could do! "No, Hoddy; nothing. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. My birth certificate was destroyed when the county building it was housed in burned down.
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