Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto.
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