Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. "You are," replied Kneebone. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger.
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