’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. Meanwhile, the object of all this fearful disturbance had made his escape to Newgate, from the roof of which he witnessed the destruction of his premises. .
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