So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. I won’t try. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. 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.
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