Wood, contemptuously, "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business.
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