Take me to the Stone Room. If he wants you, let him get you. “Fine. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it.
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