He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch.
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