The Magdalene. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. It must be the dawn creeping in. 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. behind the Laundromat. He next searched for his stockings and shoes, and when found, put them on. This she put into the trunk. "Ah! what is that?" he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face.
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