“You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise.
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